mature

The fire crackled in the hearth, the sound and the warmth filling the large room that was my study. Even the cool air that drifted in from the balcony doors was crisp and clean. A vibrant moon bathed the white marble on the balcony in its silver glow that competed with the firelight almost playfully. The shadows cast by the fire danced and flickered along the walls, illuminating the colors that I'd chosen to make this room inviting. 

Tonight, it was anything but.

Three little cards with gold-embossed backs, smooth the faces were even throughout time. I pulled them out from their soft home, one at a time upon the velvet tapestry.

It’s never done
The feeling I had
In my heart still
It’s grown strength
Haunting my dreams

“Oh light, that keeps us all within the golden embrace, watch over all those whom I love, and those I have yet to love in their own way. Let not arrogance, or blind foolishness lead them into too much danger, or death…”

((Continued from "Corrupted - Predator"))

Elros had not been pleased by what she intended to do to this poor young girl.  This had not come as a surprise to her though seeing how his honorable nature was part of what drew her to love him to begin with.  When the choice was placed before him, he had reacted in favor of the child’s defense and now Dark Ranger Ari stood between her beloved, now restrained by Naga Sharkspear, and her opposing Naga mentor, the Enchantress who held the girl-child in her grasp.

Agony.

All encompassing, all consuming anguish.

She thought at first that she'd fallen unconscious – so brief was the warm respite.

The tender kiss of death had been stolen away.

Deadly nightmares roam through the night.

Unable to sleep,

dreams become real.

Among friends the seer falters

Invoking hidden memories.

A frosty Knight,

Turtle-blessed hunter

Rise to fight

With death-kissed sword and poisoned arrow.

The Ranger-General showed up to the city's gates eventually.

It simply wasn't in the expected manner.

The stench was over-powering, as the first monstrosities lumbered into sight. Fleshy mockeries of the living shambled, shoulder-to-shoulder...the foremost of the gruesome army being freshly slain elves, along with a handful of...spirits.

One of whom was quickly introduced by the white-haired Arthas as the “former” Ranger-General. 

It seemed an age since she had last set foot in her former home.

At that, it had been quite some time...

The last time she'd seen these glittering walls, she'd been suffering from the curse of mortality.

"I am too young to die, too old for a lullaby... too tired for life on the edge..."

She scuffed quietly back towards the Row, looking slightly thicker than usual due to the day old bread loaves and slightly moldy cheese stuffed into her pockets. She made her way, feet barely making a whisper of a sound, towards one of the oldest and most run-down brothels in a the battered and run-down Row.

Past blissed-out 'nobility' and nouveau riche who enjoyed the more potent smokes brewed up by dubious den mistresses. Smoke twisted and curled from pipes and hookahs, caressing and binding the patrons who imbibed. The smoke was thick and choking, and Mouse held her breath as she slipped through the Thistle Den like a shadow.

The man's voice was coming closer. “Help” the voice came again. Mara inched forwards, lantern held high to see the blood elf behind a rather large boulder that obscured the remaining light.

The winds rose around the aged hunter like vengeful spirits, crying out their fury and tearing angrily at the ragged hides draped around his imposing frame. There was a storm coming, faster than he'd expected, and it seemed he would not quite have time to return to the small Taunka village before it was upon him.

No matter. He would seek shelter for the night elsewhere.

A fortnight he'd been stalking these frozen valleys and snow-capped ridges, accompanied by his beloved tigress, Belmaria, and burdened by both a worn leather satchel and a heavy heart. The bag- of Ranger-issue, and the last vestige of his former life he'd allowed himself- was clutched close to his body as he trudged through heavy drifts of knee-deep snow. His finely trained gaze methodically scanned the nearby crags even as his thoughts turned to the precious cargo he carried.

It was time to return to Silvermoon, and all that it held for the young couple. The rich lands of Moonglade would forever be in their memory as they moved forwards in their life. Bonded together as a new life.

The honeymoon was short and sweet, they could return to the lands all they wished within the moon. Returning home, Mara was greeted by Luck and Hathrien who promptly wore frowns. Mara nodded and turned away towards the spire for the evening. This was not her business, but her beloved’s. She could not do anything for him beyond what was fated.

Her eyes closed and eventually he returned to her in the spire, but he seemed irritated and concerned. She would have to ask him in the morning if all was well.

My candle burns at both ends,

For sleep eludes me.

To many demons linger in the night,

Silently I cry but none hear the call

Waking up to soaked satin sheets

And the delicious scent of Fel.

The ring glimmered on her finger, the Moonglade light danced upon her graceful body. Next to her the flowing sunbeam-hair of her love, peaceful in the wilds flowed around her. Bonds made for life within a whispered breath and a heartfelt vow.

He sleeps now, my little angel-in-disguise. Crimson tresses surround his beautiful, lithe frame.  Hush now the morning dove! He rests.

The first battle was won, but the journey has only just begun. More and more shall come, the endless journey of Light.

The battle lines are drawn, the stakes are high. Neither one backed away.

They all crowded around me with eyes a glow. Watching as the cards were drawn, one by one, revealing their fate.

The human male before her lay crumpled on the dead earth.

The earth that he had killed.

She was no shaman, but these cultists were a danger to the survival of her world. Azeroth was in pain – anyone could see that much.

And now, he was in pain. You reap what you sew, right?

"Two sin’dorai with flashing eyes,

One with magic, one with sword.

Surrounding me with challenging words.

Book and Nature’s fury unyielding.

Taking a deep breath, I drew the ten of cups with the beautiful rainbow dancing across the golden-inlaid card. The ten cups overflowing with the sunlight that glistened over the engraving filled with hope. 

((Finally getting around to writing up a more detailed version of Gil's backstory, which'll be released in several parts enjoy!))

                      Silvermoon was busy. It was always busy. The city bustled with activity like a beehive. Indeed, with all the gold-plated doorways and spires it must have looked like sections of massive honeycomb from the air. To the nation that called Silvermoon its capitol, the city was its pride and joy. To one particular child living in the centre of the city-center...It was misery.

"Half-blooded filth!"

I lay entwined within his crimson hair

The winter sun shines bright, a new day here

He has coaxed my sweet heart to ever dare.

His lips do kiss away the nightmare’s tear.

He sleeps so quiet, eyes closed in restful peace

The lark does sing yet my Prince still doth rest.

My love, the moon’s song, wish I ne’er cease.

Though foes and fancy put new love to test.

((refer to Raeyth post about the scars: http://rp-haven.com/blog/raeyth/breaking))

A man of a thousand scars.

Cover his body like spiderwebs.

Some faded, others cut so deep in his flesh they'll never fade.

Lost my temper.

Lashed out at him.

My words cut deeper than a whip on flesh. 

Saying sorry won't take away pain inflicted on his soul.

I'm such an ass at times. 

I never believed this could happen to me.

((Sorry for sitting on this for so long.  Rated for cussing and a couple of translations listed below, though the entire conversation ICly should be considered spoken in their native gypsy.  Part I and Part II linked for convenience.))

I lean back ‘gainst one o’the marbled headstones with a heavy sigh while I be considerin’ this new d’velopment.  "Kat... Oh, damn, Cācā, I found Katrielle, but… I think something might’a got ta her too."  I be gulpin’ hard now, recallin’ her lying there like that in my shop earlier an’ be wonderin’ what be real now that I be dead…err, almost.

"Katrielle?  Ya mean ta tell me after all that time she gone missin’ that ya finally found the girl?”

“Aye, got me a brat too, a wee girl.”

“Hot diggity damn, boy, ya be startin’ a family.  That be great!  Who she be lookin’ more like, ya or Kat?”

I be frownin’ now as I gotta own up ta my shame.  “Eh, nai, she ain’t Kat’s.  Had her with that Wretched, Aniline mum took fer apprenticin’…but she got my dark hair an’ curly too!”  I be quick ta add.

He be givin’ me a stern disappovin’ look now.  “Oh, Bala, ya bloody idgit.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.  Just got hard after the fall…”

“So what!  Ya get hard, ya go get ye’self a clean whore, not some fel-addict, ‘specially Aniline!”

Sitting target
Sitting waiting
Anticipating
Nothing
Nothing

The very air tensed, as if holding its breath,

The first cracking snap of the lash breaking across my skin like lightning,

Leather curving and lapping at the skin, seeking bone, seeking blood,

The sick slick slaps of the whip fade to my ears,

The pain echoes through scars, through years,

“You deserve this, boy…”